


Quick-Eyed Love

by PuppiesRainbowsSadism



Series: Demons Run When a Good Man Goes to War [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Angsty Schmoop, Basically cuteness, Fluff, M/M, Normal AU, Stanford AU, With a healthy dose of hurt/comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-02-01
Updated: 2014-02-22
Packaged: 2018-01-10 18:25:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 15,319
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1163031
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/PuppiesRainbowsSadism/pseuds/PuppiesRainbowsSadism
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This fic has been abandoned.</p><p>Prequel to "Forbidding Mourning," but you don't need to read it to understand this one. Rating will eventually go up. </p><p>Sam's just trying to get through college after being disowned by his family. He feels betrayed and lost, going through each day on auto-pilot. The last person he expected to disrupt that cycle was Castiel, Dean's best friend who only recently returned from being deployed overseas. After forming a tentative friendship, Sam finds himself wondering if his feelings of admiration towards Cas are something a bit more . . . cliche.</p><p>Alternatively:  Sam and Cas are dorks in love.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Which He in His Angelic Finds

**Author's Note:**

> If you haven't noticed already, most of my fics' titles come from old poetry. This one is George Herbert's "Love (3)," which seriously reminds me of Sam and Cas.
> 
> "Love bade me welcome: yet I drew back,  
> Guilty of dust and sin.  
> But quick-eyed love, observing me go slack  
> Drew nearer to me, sweetly questioning  
> If I lacked anything."

            To say that Sam wasn’t coping well would be an understatement.

            He was pouring himself into his studies and his job, as he didn’t have anything else to focus on and the mere idea of having time to let his mind wander was devastating in and of itself. Each day he came back to the apartment beyond exhausted, to the point where he was out as soon as his head hit the pillow. By now it was habit; he didn’t even think about why he ran himself ragged much anymore. Even when Jess got angry at him for it, he didn’t really see the problem. She threw words around like _weight loss_ and _immune system_ that didn’t have much meaning for him. He nodded and went along with everything she said, promising to take better care of himself when he had no intention of changing his habits in the least. He couldn't possibly take any better care of himself than he was already. It was a delicate balance he maintained between his mental and physical health, and Sam knew which was more important to him.

            The problem was that Sam was subject to addictions. That was just a fact about himself that he had come to accept over time. For the most part, they were harmless, these addictions. When he was younger, it was always something strange:  Chewing on packets of aspartame for a sweet fix, the feeling of sweat dripping down his neck after a good run, and perhaps a little less harmlessly, exploring his sexuality as far as he could. But once or twice, these "harmless" obsessions led to rather harmful situations. He passed out in gym more than once for pushing himself too far, and the relative end of his sexual promiscuity came when he finally encountered someone who cared little for safe words.

            The point being, if he tortured himself enough with guilt and nostalgia, he would eventually stumble into another one of his addictions, undoubtedly one that was much more self destructive than eating artificial sweetener raw.

            Jess eventually gave up trying to talk to him, instead forcing him to sit down and eat dinner with her every night, or dragging him out of the apartment if he’d been studying too long. She enforced a strict lights-out curfew at 10:00 each night, although Sam had no idea what would happen should he break it. It was easy to let himself be ordered around by Jess, because the more she was in control, the less he had to think for himself, and she was much better handling his physical health than he was at the moment. He was just surprised she cared so much. Glad, but surprised.

            He sometimes wondered what his family would think if they saw him now -- if they would scoff and feel justified that he can't take care of hismelf, or if they would be concerned and help him fix it. He imagined Dad would be the former, and Dean the latter. Then he stopped imagining anything at all because doing so just reopened the gaping hole in his chest.

            His one saving grace (besides Jess, bless her) was Castiel. Cas was a friend of Dean's, the only one either of them stayed in contact with throughout the nomadic period of their lives. When they finally settled down, it was in Cas's town, and Sam was so grateful for him. Dean's childhood was wasted on a track of endless asphalt and a little brother who recognised him as his only parent figure. Having a friend like Cas was good for him, for both of them, and while Sam sometimes found himself a little jealous, he never once said anything. Cas was intelligent and well educated. He knew all about Donne and Bizet and Monet, and Plato and Darwin and even Alistair Crowley, and Sam would normally have jumped at the chance to talk to him -- about anything. But Castiel was Dean's friend, and when they were together, Sam largely stayed out of the way.

            Just months before Sam left for Stanford, Cas was deployed out of the country, where a conflict was beginning to brew between two of his more influential family members. That in and of itself almost convinced Sam to give up on college, or at the very least postpone his departure, so Dean wasn't left alone. He might even have gone along with it if his father hadn't overheard them arguing about whether or not he should stay.

            That said, the last place he expected to see Cas was in his Brit lit class, although Sam knew he had been considering Stanford for a while. Sam had a difficult time deciding how to feel about finding him there. On the one hand, he was a familiar face, and one that didn't break his heart to see. On the other hand, this was Dean's best and only friend, and they both left Dean to come here. As much as he wanted to strike up a friendship, Sam felt like he would somehow be betraying Dean if he so much as spoke to Castiel. He couldn't have given a logical explanation why, and he knew it was dumb, but that didn't stop the chill of betrayal from creeping up his veins when they caught each other's eyes from across the room.

            Sam couldn't explain away the panic that seized him as the professor dismissed them. He packed up as quickly as he could, intending to make a mad dash for the door, but he froze completely when he heard a polite "Hello, Sam" from right beside him. He stood slowly, slinging his bag over his shoulder and refusing to meet Castiel's eyes.

            "Hey, Cas," he muttered.

            "I wasn't aware you had decided to attend Stanford."

            "Yeah, well," he began awkwardly. "They offered the most scholarships, so." Sam winced internally. That didn't sound like a socially acceptable thing to say in his ears. Cas's family was filthy rich; he probably didn't need any scholarships. Not that Sam's financial situation was a secret, it just seemed like something one didn't bring up in casual conversation. But Cas was smirking, so maybe he was just overthinking things. It had been a while since he'd had to socialise at all.

            Castiel began walking, and Sam automatically followed him. "That's good," Cas approved. "And Stanford does have an exceptional law program."

            "How did you know I'm here for law?"

            "You expressed the desire to be a lawyer several times in the past. I just assumed."

            The twitch of Sam's mouth could almost be called a smile, but it lacked all traces of humour. If only Dean had paid as much attention.

            "What about you?" Sam asked politely. "I remember you said you were joining the military."

            "That I did," Cas nodded. "As you know, I've spent the past few months abroad."

            "Studying?"

            "Medicine."

            "You want to be a doctor?"

            Cas hesitated a bit before nodding slowly. Sam pretended not to notice.

            "So, uh," Castiel fumbled. "How's Dean?"

            Sam's stomach plummeted to his feet. He should have known that Cas would want to know how Dean was doing. They were best friends, and undoubtedly hadn't heard from each other in a while.

            "Sam? Are you alright?"

            He hadn't noticed he had stopped in his tracks at the question, but that didn't much matter at the moment. There was a lump in his throat that prevented him from speaking, and as much as he tried to swallow past it, it only made it worse.

            "Sam?" Cas repeated concernedly.

            "Sorry," he squeaked. "I'm fine. I don't know how Dean is. We haven't spoken since I left."

            "It's almost November."

            "Yeah." He put as much meaning into the one syllable as he could, because he wasn't really up to talking about it at the moment. Granted, he wasn't up to thinking about it either. Maybe Castiel understood that, because he nodded and dropped the topic.

            "When's your next class?" he asked instead, beginning to walk again. It was raining, and as soon as they stepped outside, Cas dug an umbrella from his pocket and popped it open, gesturing for Sam to join him. Sam hesitated. He'd never been that close to Cas before, and it felt strange for some reason. But it was pouring, and he had no desire to get wet, so he suppressed whatever it was and stood under the umbrella.

            "That was my last one for today," he answered.

            "Mine too. Would you like to come with me, Sam? Maybe . . . talk about whatever it is going on?"

            Sam seriously considered the offer, he did. And he wanted to, but that nameless something held him back, and this time it won.

            "Sorry," he apologised genuinely. "I don't think I can. But it was nice seeing you again," he added when Cas's face fell ever so slightly. "Maybe some other time."

            In fact, Sam saw Cas every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 2:00 in the afternoon, but he never saw him outside of class, no matter that Cas asked every time. Until eventually he didn’t, and a disorienting combination of regret and relief washed over Sam. He recognised that this whole avoidance thing was stupid, and on top of that, he could really use another friend, but after that first conversation, he was more than a little concerned about what Cas’s friendship would entail. And moreover, why did Cas even want to befriend him? Sam honestly can’t remember them ever holding a conversation that wasn’t purely small talk.

            He talked about Cas with Jess sometimes, just casually. When she asked how his day was, he might reply with “Okay” or “Eh,” just like he always had, but more commonly now was “Pretty good. Cas says hi” or “You know, Cas told me something very interesting today. . . .” And on the rare occasion that she pushed him for more, she would call him an idiot for not following him home when invited.

            These times she used words like “lonely” and “insane.” These meant a little more to him than the others.

            Sam still spoke with Cas regularly, even if he didn't listen to Jessica's advice. Once Cas had gotten the memo that Sam didn't want to discuss anything to do with his family or life before Stanford, they actually began to make progress with their friendship. They discussed their other classes and griped about their teachers, sometimes their classmates too, who couldn't even pronounce "Socrates" and "piety" correctly, or who insisted that Alaska was not a state because it was not part of the continental US. Occasionally they discussed more intellectual topics, such as the _Allegory of the Cave_ and _Paradise Lost_ , and it was these conversations that Sam held above any other they had, certainly more than idle gossip. Sam was blown away by the extent of Castiel's education and his passion for learning, which possibly surpassed his own. They both preferred the humanities, but they were not above discussing topics such as String Theory, and although Sam was not as gifted in the sciences as he was in the arts, he was still amazed at how well Cas excelled in every subject and hung onto every word. But their conversations were still short lived, as they only spoke as long as it took to get to the fork in the road where they parted ways. They found themselves walking slower and slower each day.

            Jess kept calling him an idiot. No, those were her exact words every time Sam brought up Cas in conversation:  "You're an idiot!" Then, much softer, "Are you allergic to making friends or something?" Sam considered the possibility only briefly before deciding that she was right, and there was no point in denying himself Castiel's friendship when he had more or less walked out of Dean's life for good. There was no connection there for him anymore, and while he thought Cas probably deserved to know that, Sam promised that, the next time Cas invited him somewhere, he'd agree. Jess smiled larger than she had ever seen before and moved as if to wrap him in her arms. She seemed to decide better of it, though, and settled for ruffling his hair. Sam couldn't help the smile that pulled at his lips. It felt like a stretch, as if he had forgotten how to do it, but it also felt genuine.

~~~~~

“Thanksgiving is this week," Cas reminded him after their next class.

            "Yes it is," Sam agreed, only slightly like a smartass. Cas didn't seem to catch on.

            "I'm finding it difficult to phrase this delicately," he confessed, although Sam had a difficult time believing it. Cas had a way of manipulating the English language so that every other sentence was like poetry. And every one that wasn't poetry was lyrical prose. "So please forgive me if this come out . . . ruder than intended." He paused a second to gauge Sam's reaction before continuing. "I will not pretend to understand your situation, but if you have nowhere else to go for the break, you are certainly welcome to stay with me. I have an apartment just off campus, and all the other tenants will be leaving to be with their families."

            Sam swallowed thickly. He was reminded of his promise to Jess, but surely staying with Cas for the duration of the weekend was a bit much. He had his own apartment, which would be empty as Jess was flying halfway across the country for the break. He could choose to stay at his place alone or spend the time with Cas (and no one else). Honestly, he couldn't decide which option was more awkward.

            "Can I think about it?" he asked instead.

            "Of course. There is no pressure with either decision, I just thought you might not want to spend the holidays by yourself."

            "Right, about that," Sam started weakly, his heart hammering in his throat. "Can we talk sometime? I just . . . you asked me a question a while ago, and I never really answered."

            Cas eyed him curiously, squinting in the way that Dean found irritating and Sam found endearing. "Certainly," he assured, still seeming a little confused. "Is there a certain time or place you had in mind?"

            "Not particularly."

            "Is now okay?"

            Sam drew in a shaky breath, but nodded. Cas hesitated before accepting that as an answer and leading them presumably to his apartment. Sam was surprised when, rather than turning left at the intersection, they kept going straight. He wanted to ask where they were going, but the silence seemed a precious thing to lose while he had it.

            They weren’t walking long before Cas took a sharp left into a quaint little house that Sam had never seen before. It seemed very homey, but the kind of homey that a bright pink townhouse radiated. The inside was much busier, although almost just as quiet. He had never seen so many students packed into such a small place, and yet it was almost entirely silent and didn’t feel claustrophobic at all, as they were all seated at tables and counters scattered around the room.

            Cas touched his shoulder to bring him out of his thoughts and led the way to a secluded corner of the room, which was miraculously unoccupied. Or, at least, it seemed that way; the sheer canopies that surrounded the tables in this area made it difficult to tell. Cas gestured for him to sit while he pulled the curtain closed around them and took the seat across the table from him.

            “What is this place?” Sam asked, still a little mesmerized.

            “It’s a sort of safe haven for students,” Castiel answered softly. “On this floor is a coffeeshop and a bookstore in the back. Upstairs is where one can take much-needed naps between classes, and students with no other place to go stay in the attic and work here.” That said, it was a wonder Sam didn’t know about this place. The only reason he had somewhere to live now was because Jess’s flatmate backed out at the last minute.

            “I brought us here,” Cas continued, still hushed, “Because I knew we would not be bothered. I assume what you want to tell me is highly personal, or am I wrong?”

            Sam swallowed, his mouth becoming very dry very quickly. “No, you’re not wrong,” he admitted slowly, gathering the courage to say aloud what he hadn’t even let himself think about. “A while ago you asked me how Dean was.”

            “Yes. And you said you hadn’t spoken to him recently.”

            “Right,” Sam laughed nervously. It was the unspoken question afterwards that he really needed to answer. “I said that we haven’t spoken since I left. That was just before November. It’s almost Thanksgiving now, and I still haven’t heard from him.”

            “Perhaps – “

            “Please, Cas, just let me talk. This is . . . difficult.” What an understatement that was. “I left in mid-July. Last year.”

            Cas looked like he wanted to say something, but wisely decided against it. Sam thanked him silently.

            “I was considering not going to college, at least not yet. Because you had just left, and I didn’t want Dean to be alone. I almost threw everything away, and I would have, for Dean, but he found out, and we got into a fight about whether or not I should go. Dad overheard and . . .” Sam took a deep breath and stared at his hands clasped in front of him. “Long story short, he wasn’t happy. He told me that I wasn’t welcome back if I left. And . . . Dean just kind of stood there and let it happen. He didn’t start yelling at me like Dad, but he didn’t try to stand up for me either. So I left. Dean offered to drive me to the train station, find me a place to stay, but I . . . I just couldn’t. I was pissed and upset, and it wasn’t my proudest moment. I took the train to California, and . . .” _Camped in the woods, lived out of soup kitchens, broke into gyms to shower, stole a car once_. “Survived until school started.

            “Dad’s kept true to his word,” he finished with as much casualty as he could. “I tried calling once. He hung up before I could say a word and changed the phone number. Dean hasn’t even tried contacting me – “

            Sam jumped when Castiel began wiping his face with a tissue. He hadn’t even realised he’d been crying.

            “A-anyway,” he soldiered on. “I figured you should probably know that – that I don’t have any kind of connection with Dean anymore. And I don’t like to talk about it, but I won’t shut you down like that again.”

            It was quiet for a long time after he finished, at least it felt like a long time, because this was not the peaceful silence from earlier. This was tense and worrisome.

            “The end,” he said lamely, only to have something to say.

            “Sam,” Castiel began slowly, his eyes flicking up to meet Sam’s steadily. “Thank you for telling me this, but why did you feel the need to?”

            The question made Sam stumble slightly. Well, because he thought Cas deserved to know, but that wasn’t a satisfactory answer. Saying that he thought Cas was curious about the situation wouldn’t be far off from the truth, but that didn’t sound right either.

            “Because,” he continued, “While it is unfortunate that you are not getting along with your brother at the moment – and you certainly have my condolences, if that is appropriate to say – it is of no consequence to our friendship whether or not Dean is involved in either of our lives.”

            Of course, that’s why Sam was hesitant around Cas at first, but that couldn’t be why he told him. It could very well be the opposite, though:  Sam’s own way of saying _Dean doesn’t control my life; I do._ He smiled ruefully at the possibility.

            “I know,” he said softly. “I don’t know why I wanted to tell you, but now you know.”

            “Okay,” Cas allowed with only slight hesitation.

            But now Sam was curious. “Why did you think it would have mattered?”

            “It doesn’t.”

            “I know that, but why did you think I thought it mattered?”

            Castiel sighed, and his eyes flitted away a moment before answering. “Before I left,” _was deployed_ , Sam knew he meant, “I always thought that you and I could be very good friends. We had a lot in common; we still do. But if I was with Dean, you avoided me at all costs. I figured either you thought I wasn’t interested or that Dean deserved a monopoly on my companionship. Now you know I’m interested, so it could only be the latter.” Cas shrugged in a poor attempt to be casual. “I’m sorry I jumped to conclusions.”

            “Don’t be,” Sam assured. “You weren’t wrong. But it’s not like that now. I’ve . . .” He thought hard before he spoke, wanting to be sure that what he was going to say was actually the truth. “I’ve had more than a year to come to terms with this whole thing, and Dean doesn’t control my life anymore.”

            “Did he then?”

            “Definitely. I was a rebellious little shit, but I listened to Dean almost unconditionally.”

            Cas smiled a little, so slightly that Sam would have missed it were he not looking.

            “Well, thank you for telling me,” he said, sounding genuinely grateful.

            “It’s not like it was a secret or anything,” Sam replied, slightly embarrassed.

            “It wasn’t open information either. You are a mystery, Sam.”

            It sounded almost like a term of endearment, like Castiel was being affectionate. It pulled at something in Sam’s chest, and he had a familiar feeling of _oh shit_ that he’d felt only twice before.

~~~~~

Sam ultimately decided not to stay with Cas for the entirety of the break. It would be too awkward, he decided.

            When Jess left, she fussed over him more than usual, reminding him to eat and to leave the apartment occasionally and get plenty of sleep. Not that he thought any of that would have been much of a problem; Sam was faring significantly better now that he had confided in Cas about his familial situation. It was a huge weight off his chest, although the hole that his family used to fill was just as raw as always.

            The apartment seemed emptier than usual – well, it was, but it didn’t feel like it was missing another person. It felt desolate, and it occurred to Sam how much Jess lit up a room with nothing more than her personality. Her posters and pictures were all over the place, but that wasn’t what gave the apartment character, and it sure as hell wasn’t him.

            Sam felt terribly lonely, in the sense that an introvert in a room full of strangers might feel a sense of crippling, soul-deep loneliness. Part of it was the fact that Jess was gone, and another good part was that Castiel was not. It seemed strange to him that they had such a personal conversation and immediately parted ways. It wasn't even the kind of conversation that one might have to mull over, which made the separation feel doubly off. And the knowledge that Cas was also alone at the moment did nothing in the way of relief.

            Sam laughed to himself. Evidently, he always found something to stress about, no matter how well his life might be going.

            On an impulse, Sam picked up the phone and dialled Cas's number. Dean had given it to him, once upon a time, should an emergency arise and he not be there. That never happened; Dean was always there.

            He shook his head to dispel the thoughts. No point in dwelling on those.

            Cas picked up on the third ring, and Sam was stuck for something to say. He was never very good about talking to people on the phone. "H-hey, Cas."

            "Sam?" Castiel's voice, somehow, sounded much deeper on the phone. If Sam didn't know better, he would be intimidated.

            "Yeah, sorry."

            "Don't be. To what do I owe the pleasure?"

            "I was just thinking, I mean, since we'll both be alone, I was wondering if you'd like to come over for Thanksgiving dinner." It was silent too long, and Sam began to panic and just start talking. Normally his response under panic was to clam up, but this was different. Cas was different. "It won't be much, definitely not any kind of turkey dinner you probably have on Thanksgiving, but, I mean, it's the thought that counts, I think, and it doesn't make sense to me that we should both have to give thanks alone when -- "

            " _Sam_ ," oh God, Cas was laughing at him. "You don't have to explain yourself to me. I would love to come over." The relief that came with those words was dizzying. Sam had to sit down. "Should I bring anything?"

            "If you want to," Sam replied breathily, a little hysterically, if he was honest. "Like I said, I'm not making much. Probably just sandwiches and potatoes."

            "Then I will bring something as well. Thank you, Sam."

            "No problem. I just thought -- "

            "I understand. Should noon be okay?"

            "Yeah. Yeah, that's perfect." Sam smiled a little, thinking that it sounded almost as if they were setting up a date.

            Sam would also regret even letting the word _date_ cross his mind, because once it did, it got stuck there. This was most certainly _not_ a date; he and Cas were barely friends, and surely Cas saw it that way as well. But Sam couldn't let the idea go. So when Cas showed up and they finally sat down to eat, it felt a lot more awkward to Sam than it probably actually was.

            "Do you mind if I say grace?" Cas asked, making Sam jump slightly.

            "Not at all," he answered, folding his hands in his lap and bowing his head. When Cas didn't immediately start praying, he looked up curiously.

            "Sorry," his friend apologised, somewhat amused. "I just didn't expect that you would be religious."

            For a moment, Sam was offended, until he rationalised _why_ Cas might think that. "Yeah, Dean really isn't, is he?"

            "He doesn't have much respect for religion," Cas agreed. "Was your father . . . ?"

            "No," Sam laughed at the absurdity of the idea. "No, Dad didn't believe. I don't think they know I do, either. It's kind of funny, actually. Other kids snuck out to smoke or make out or whatever, and I sneaked out to go to church."

            The look Cas gave him was more sad than amused. Sam cleared his throat awkwardly. This was why he didn't like talking about his life so much. People always pitied him.

            "Anyway, what about your family?" he asked. "Are they religious?"

            Castiel thought for a moment before answering, and Sam realised that he didn't really know anything about Cas's family other than that he never saw his father and had a lot of siblings. He assumed they were a typical religious family -- with a name like Castiel, which sounded much like the angel _Cassiel_ , it seemed like a solid assumption.

            "We all believe in a higher power," he answered finally. "But to what degree, and as to what that might mean, we all believe differently. For instance, Michael is very strict, very conservative, and a strong believer in Hell and fate. Gabriel, on the other hand, believes that whatever god is out there does not interfere with our lives in the least, and he is unsure whether or not there is an actual 'Heaven.'"

            "And where do you fall on the scale, Castiel?"

            "Somewhere in the middle," he answered immediately, smoothly, as if he had prepared this response. "I believe God changes His mind, but only for the better, and he has always given us free will."

            "So you're more of a New Testament kind of person?"

            That made Cas smile and huff something of a laugh. "Yes, I guess you could say that."

            Sam smiled softly, just for the fact that he made Cas laugh, if only slightly. "Me too."

            They sat in companionable silence for a moment, thinking over this new information and what it meant, if anything. Then Cas asked, rather meekly, "May I say grace now?"

            "Please do," Sam grinned, and while Cas was praying, he couldn't help but think that this was the first time in his life he had ever had anything resembling a real Thanksgiving. Even if the turkey was in a sandwich and the potatoes were instant, the emotion was genuine.

~~~~~

Sam felt like they had really been connecting recently, but he didn’t dare mention it because the word _date_ still lingered in the back of his mind, arising occasionally at the most inconvenient times.

            He and Cas spent more time together, as Sam felt more comfortable doing so after admitting to himself that Dean no longer controlled his life and he could allow himself this, at the very least. He was happy spending time with Cas, and after everything, he deserved a little happiness. Cas deserved it too.

            They began studying together when finals came around, finding themselves at Cas’s little safe haven more often than not. After six, it was much rowdier, although not in the same way as a party or a bar. More like a Q&A a famous author – respectfully hushed, but buzzing with energy and excitement. It was a fantastic environment for studying, and one coffee was half off for each correctly answered quiz question, so Sam was more than happy to be there.

            When Winter break rolled around, Cas once again invited Sam to stay at his apartment. As compelling as it was, he once again declined, although he couldn’t have given a rational reason why. He was working two jobs for the month-long break, and would come back each day to a drafty, creaky, _empty_ apartment. It made no sense, but that was what he chose.

            Christmas Eve, he had just gotten back from work when there was a knock on the door. He groaned, but silently prayed that it was the landlord because the heat had been out for a while. Not that it mattered much in California, but it was still too cold to do without.

            So he was a little surprised when Cas was standing behind the door. Although he shouldn’t have been because the landlord was probably with his family. He was actually surprised that Castiel wasn’t with his. Then again, he talked about his family less than Sam did. Maybe they were on similar terms.

            “Hey, Cas,” Sam greeted in surprise.

            “Hello, Sam,” Cas replied.

            “D’you want to come in, or – “

            “No, this is fine. I just wanted to give you this.” In one hand, Cas held out a package wrapped in newspaper. Sam, beyond his surprise, couldn’t help but be reminded of every year that Dean ensured they had some sort of Christmas. Little gifts picked up in gas stations and thrift stores, wrapped in the funnies. The last gift he got from Dean was a leather journal, currently lying untouched on his desk.

            Sam smiled and took the present. It was heavier than he expected, and more solid. He had expected a box, but it felt like a book.

            “Thank you so much,” he said, genuinely thankful that Cas had thought of him. “I . . . I didn’t get you anything . . .”

            “Nor did I expect you to,” Cas replied kindly. “Honestly, I wasn’t planning on exchanging gifts this year, but I found this, and . . . Happy Christmas.”

            “Thank you,” he said again. “I would hug you, but – “

            “It would be awkward,” Cas agreed.

            “Right.” Although he wondered if it really would be. “Can I open it now, or should I wait?”

            “You may do whatever you wish, although I would prefer to know whether or not you are pleased with it.”

            Sam hesitated for only a moment before tearing into the newspaper. Dean always made fun of him for how methodical he was in doing so, doing as little damage to the paper as possible. When the wrapping fell away, Sam’s jaw dropped, and he vaguely registered Cas’s pleased expression in his peripheral vision. It was a compilation of the tales of King Arthur by Sir Thomas Malory, first edition, in all its battered glory.

            “Holy _shit_ , Cas,” Sam breathed in awe. “How the _hell_ did you get this?”

            Cas’s answering grin split his face in two, and Sam was as amazed by that as he was the book, maybe even more so. “I take it you’re pleased?”

            “Are you kidding? This is amazing!” Sam really, really wanted to hug Cas – how does one go about showing immense gratitude without doing so?

            “I’m glad you think so. And, um . . .”

            Sam’s eyes immediately snapped up to Cas’s. He was such a great manipulator with his language that it was rare and strange to hear him struggling with his words.

            “Cas?”

            “I would also like to ask if you would like to spend Christmas day with me?” He looked so unsure that, if his heart weren’t beating in his throat, Sam may have thought it was cute.

            And there was that word again:  _Date_. That _oh shit_ feeling was back too, and if Sam wasn’t in severe denial, he would have taken a moment to consider what that meant before he spoke.

            “Yeah, sure,” he agreed within the space of a heartbeat. “What time?”

            “Whenever is convenient.

            “How’s three?” _Date date date date date_.

            “Perfect.” Cas’s little smile almost dispelled the panic.

Looking back, Sam wondered if he wanted something significant to happen, if he wanted some ground-breaking realisation or life-altering situation. But whether he did or not, he didn’t get it. It was just Christmas, like every other one except with Cas instead of Dean. They ate Christmas dinner, watched a holiday film or two, and later, Sam drank too much egg nog. Cas probably did as well, but he held his alcohol unnaturally well. If there was an embarrassing altercation, Sam didn’t remember it, and Cas didn’t mention it, so he figured they were okay.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cas didn’t need retrospect to know that this was a very bad idea. That didn’t stop him from picking up the phone and dialling Dean’s number, but it did make him hesitate in pressing the call button.

            This was silly, he knew, and he also knew that he was allowed to act without gaining permission first, in some instances. The problem was that this instance was not one of them. He was raised in a very traditional household, and while he didn’t retain all the morals he was taught, he did most of them.

            Why did he want to do this? Stupid question, but a crucial one.

            Because Sam could usually hold his liquor, but Cas apparently put too much in the egg nog.

            Because Sam gets chatty and clingy when he’s drunk.

            Because _You ever have a girlfriend, Cas?_ turned into _How ‘bout a boyfriend?_ turned into _You ever want one? Either of them?_ And damn it had been difficult for him to concentrate on his answers when Sam was clinging to his shirt, their faces so close together that Cas could feel Sam’s breath on his cheek, ghosting across his lips.

            And maybe because he’d been a little into his best friend’s brother for a while, but he hadn’t planned on doing anything about it. Although admittedly, he had been on the fence until last night. And even after that, he still might not do anything; just because Cas _could_ date Sam didn’t mean Sam wanted to be dated, and drunken questions certainly did not equal flirting. But in the unlikely event that his affections were returned, he wanted to be prepared.

            He pressed the call button.

            He would have to get past Dean first, which would probably be much more challenging than it sounded since Cas hadn’t spoken to him since he was deployed. Dean probably didn’t even know he was back in the states. So there would be a lot of catching up, and then Cas would have to make an excuse to talk to Dean’s father. He couldn’t tell the truth, because best friend or not, Dean’s first priority was Sam, and Cas had no doubt in his mind that was still true, no matter that they currently weren’t on speaking terms. Dean would cut him off before he even had a chance. Then he’d have to somehow –

            “ _This is John_.”

            Although he was always welcome with the Winchesters, he had never actually met John, so the only impression of the man Cas had was developed through stories told with varying amounts of anger, disgust, joviality, and nostalgia. Mostly joviality and nostalgia from Dean, anger and disgust from Sam. They both had such varying opinions of their father that it was difficult for Cas to strategize how to approach the situation.

            He swallowed thickly, taking a quick, deep breath before speaking. He wasn’t used to acting without a plan, but Sam had him doing a lot of that recently. “Good evening, Mr. Winchester. This is Castiel.”

_“Dean’s friend?”_

            “Yes, sir.” Where Cas was from, calling elders _sir_ or _ma’am_ was offensive, implying that the person being addressed was elderly. Where the Winchesters were from, it was customary to address each man or woman by their respective title. Cas was still getting used to it.

            “ _I don’t believe we’ve ever met_ ,” John continued politely, although Cas would swear he could hear the falseness through the phone. Most likely he was just paranoid.

            “No, sir, we haven’t.”

            “ _Well, Dean’s out right now. Probably won’t be back until late._ ”

            “A-actually, it was you I was hoping to speak with.”

            “ _Oh?_ ”

            “Yes, sir. I am sorry I didn’t call your main phone. It seems it was disconnected.”

            “ _Yeah, changed the number._ ” A small wave of rage overtook Castiel for just a second. There was no explanation, not even a hint of remorse in John Winchester’s tone. “ _So what do you need me for?_ ”

            Cas paused a moment to collect himself. It was now or never, and never stopped being an option as soon as he picked up the phone. “I’m calling to inquire about Sam. Sir,” he threw in for good measure. And Jesus, his voice was shaking. When he was met with nothing but silence, he panicked and kept talking to fill the silence. “We have become very good friends as of late, and – and I realise you’re not exactly – “

            “ _Stop._ ” It was said very softly, but it shut Castiel up immediately. The danger in his tone could not be mistaken. “ _Listen to me:  Stay away from my son, and never contact this number again. Do we have an understanding?_ ”

            Cas was tempted to ask what the consequences were if he didn’t agree, but ultimately he valued his life too much. “Yes, sir.”

            Simple, to the point, no room for misunderstanding, and punctuated by a loud click as John slammed the phone shut.

            To say that Castiel was disappointed would be an understatement. To say that he was angry would be even more so, although he couldn’t have said whether he was more angry at John or himself.


	2. Of All Pains, the Greatest Pain

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Since I forgot the disclaimer last time, have it now:  
> I know very little about the workings of war. Everything I know was learned from superficial searches on Google and vague stories from my family members in the armed forces. If I have some blatant mistakes in the story, please don't hesitate to let me know.

                Cas most certainly did _not_ stay away from John Winchester’s son. Not really, anyway, and a small thrill of rebellion shot through his veins occasionally at the thought. He did go to great lengths to ensure that the rest of their meetings were alcohol-free, however. Sam didn’t seem to remember what had happened at Christmas, and that was just as well. As much as he wanted to, Cas couldn’t let himself get any closer to Sam than he was with his father’s stern disapproval. It just wasn’t in him to do so, and he hated himself a little for that. He _realised_ that his methods were not only outdated, but insulting to Sam – who was, for all intents and purposes, a legal, independent adult capable of governing himself – but they had been so deeply ingrained in him since childhood that he couldn’t just let it go. It was bad enough that he was still associating with Sam when John had so clearly forbidden it, and it was pretty awful that he considered that bad enough.

                In any case, he maintained his friendship with Sam as well he could with the insistent knowledge that he wanted more lingering, unsatisfied, in the back of his mind. And the ever-present knowledge that his time was severely limited.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

“I think you’re in love with him.”

                Sam choked violently, soda spraying the table in front of him and a little going up his nose. “ _Wh-what?_ ” he gasped as Jess exclaimed, “God dammit, Sam!” and mopped up what pop had been spilled.

                “What did you say?” Sam coughed, desperately trying to expel the soda from his lungs.

                “I _said_ ,” Jess replied, much snippier than before, “I think you have the hots for Cas.”

                It wasn’t as if Sam hadn’t thought about it before -- because he had. A lot -- but it was strange to hear someone else say so. He could always deny himself; denying others, he found, was infinitely more difficult. “What makes you think so?”

                “Just the way you talk about him. You get this look on your face that’s, like, _longing_ or something. I don’t know.”

                “’Longing?’” Sam chuckled softly. He was _pining_ after Cas. Like some early-1900s teenager. Let’s go down to the drive-in before bopping down to the sockhop.

                “Shut up,” she chastised playfully. “You know what I mean.”

                “Yeah, whatever. I am not ‘ _in love_ ’ with Cas.”

                Jess looked at him like she didn’t believe a word. Truth be told, Sam didn’t really either. “Ask him out. It’ll be good for you.”

                “We already spend most of our free time together.”

                “So it won’t be too weird.”

                Sam considered it – honestly considered calling Cas and asking him on a date. He imagined something simple, but not as simple as their usual get-togethers. Something like a picnic. Or hell, even just takeout and a movie would be nice. Although Cas _was_ a bit more traditional, he would probably want to _court_ Sam, or something. Which would be nice as well, Sam guessed. If he were to do anything with Cas, he wanted to do it right, take things slowly. Like a real relationship, something to last.

                Sam started when he realised he hadn’t spoken in a while and Jess was staring at him with a shit-eating grin.

                “You totally imagined it just now,” she stated confidently.

                “I did not.”

                “Don’t even give me that, Sam Winchester. You’re totally into him.”

                Sam sighed in resignation. “Okay, yeah, maybe I am,” he muttered, and it felt like a huge weight had lifted off his chest. And all the circulation was rushing back, filling his chest with warmth along with pain. “But that doesn’t mean anything.”

                “It _does_ , though,” Jess insisted kindly, scooting her chair closer to Sam’s so she could rest her hand on his knee. “It wasn’t six months ago that you were wearing yourself thin – not eating, not really sleeping. . . . I hate to sound cliché, but since you and Cas started hanging out, you’ve been better. Not perfect,” she corrected playfully. “You’re still an idiot, and you would forget your head some days if it wasn’t attached to your neck. But you’re better. And a lot happier too.”

                It meant a lot to Sam, hearing her say that. It really did, probably because of how Jess had taken it upon herself to take care of him when he couldn’t. She reminded Sam a lot of Dean, actually. The real Dean, the one only Sam got to see. If angels did exist, Jess was one of them.

                “Thanks, Dr. Chapman,” he replied softly, only half joking. “That really means a lot.”

                Jess rolled her eyes but smiled all the same, kissing his temple gently. Sam’s heart swelled at the gesture, and he had never been so happy in his life to have made a friend.

                “Are you gonna tell him?”

                “Hmmm . . . nah,” he replied as if he were ambivalent about the matter, never mind that he could _feel_ the weight returning, settling over his sternum once again. “I’m perfectly happy with just being his friend, and I don’t want to ruin that if he doesn’t feel the same way.” _Not to mention he’s probably not into guys_ , Sam thought, but he didn’t say so because he just _knew_ that Jess would pitch a fit over it. _What a stupid thing to say you can’t just_ assume _things like that it’s such a heteronormative thing to do, Mr. Politically Correct . . . !_

                “Well, if you’re happy like that,” Jess commented gingerly, as if broaching an extremely controversial topic.

                Honestly, it wasn’t an issue of whether or not he was happy with Cas as his friend, and only his friend. It was an issue of whether or not he would be happy with Cas as his friend after being rejected, and that was not an idea he wanted to entertain. He was much better off living in blissful ignorance, thank you very much.

                “I am,” Sam insisted, standing up and grabbing his jacket from the back of his chair.

                “Alright,” Jess acquiesced disbelievingly. “You go do your thing. And say hi to Cas for me.”

                “Will do,” he promised, shouldering his bag before heading out the door.

                He and Cas didn’t have any classes together this semester, and probably wouldn’t again for the remainder of their education, but they did have a class at the same time most days and often met up afterwards. Sam would be lying if he said it wasn’t his favourite part of every day, when he didn’t have to think about work or school and could relax with his best friend. It was almost startling to think of Cas as _his_ best friend rather than Dean’s, but it was becoming increasingly true with each passing day. Or maybe that was just Sam.

                In any case, he speed-walked out of class and towards the dining hall where he was supposed to meet Cas for dinner. Cas wasn’t there yet, but that was fine. Sam’s class had gotten out a little early anyway. He went ahead and found them a table anyway.

                Ten minutes later, and Sam went ahead and got his food without Cas, eating as slowly as possible to stall for time.

                Twenty minutes after that, there was nothing left to help him stall. He wasn’t upset that Cas was late, he just wished he’d had some sort of notice beforehand.

                Another five minutes and Sam was about to leave when Cas half-sprinted through the doors towards him, breathless and sweating. The first words out of Cas’s mouth were “I’m so sorry, Sam,” but Sam wasn’t paying much attention. Cas was in his army uniform, which Sam had never seen him wear before. Not that Cas was ashamed of it or anything, but he always made a point to change out of it before he saw Sam. And it wasn’t as if he had to wear it very often to begin with.

                Which was a shame, Sam thought before he could stop himself. It really was true what they said about a man in uniform.

                “It’s fine,” he replied concernedly. “What happened?”

                “May I sit down?”

                _Oh, duh. He must be tired_. “Oh, of course.”

                Cas immediately relaxed into the seat. Sam had never seen him look so _drained_ before. Not just physically, but emotionally as well. He looked absolutely crushed.

                “What happened?” he asked again.

                “Last-minute meeting with my superior,” Cas answered softly, almost hesitantly.

                “And?”

                “I’m to be deployed again in a few months.”

                Sam blinked at Cas stupidly for a minute, trying to process what he was hearing. It didn’t help that Cas delivered the news so casually. Out of every scenario that he considered, this was not one of them. It was almost as if, for a while, Sam forgot that Cas was in the military, forgot there was a war brewing overseas, forgot everything that existed outside Palo Alto.

                “But – but you just got back,” Sam floundered, searching for something to say. _I’m sorry_ probably wasn’t appropriate.

                “I’ve been back long enough,” Cas replied calmly, running a hand through his unusually neat hair, messing it up the way Sam was used to seeing. “And I have some time still.”

                “When do you leave?” Sam asked, trying not to sound too upset. Although he could hear the disappointment in his own voice.

                “The end of April.”

                “So – wait,” Sam started, still attempting to wrap his mind around what Cas was saying. Or, more accurately, trying to decide how he felt about it. “So you’re leaving before the end of the semester? What does that mean for your classes?”

                “Well, normally, they would wait until summer to send me off, but they fear that a war will break out soon. And as Novaks known for being exceptional soldiers, the idea is that the more of us they get out there now, the sooner they can cut everything off. As for my classes, this shouldn’t impact them too much. I’ll simply have to take my finals a couple of weeks early and continue my studies wherever they send me.”

                Sam stared at Cas a moment, wondering if he’d heard right. He didn’t know much about Cas’s family, other than that it was very large, fairly religious, and Cas didn’t like to talk about them if he could help it. He didn’t even think he knew Cas’s last name was Novak, and if he did, he had forgotten.

                “I’m sorry,” he interjected, feeling kind of stupid for his lack of knowledge about his best friend’s life. “Did you just say that your family’s made up of soldiers? I thought most of them were religious.”

                Castiel sighed and ran his fingers through his hair again, this time as a gesture of distress. “We are,” he explained, refusing to make eye contact. “But every single person in my family is either currently in the military or has fallen in combat. We’re like angels in that way – religious warriors, for better or for worse.”

                Sam wanted to ask if that’s why they all seemed to be named after angels, but he thought it might be inappropriate for the conversation.

                “So,” he started, trying to steer the conversation anywhere but where is was going. “If it was just a meeting, why were you all out of breath when you got here? I thought they made you run laps around campus or something.”

                Cas chuckled softly, and Sam couldn’t help but smile back, just like every time he saw his friend laugh. _Jesus Christ he was really in it deep_.

                “I wanted to see you,” Cas answered easily, oblivious to the way Sam’s heart skipped a beat or two. “I was afraid you’d be gone by the time I got here, so I ran.”

                “You could have texted me.”

                Cas blinked at him for a moment before breaking into another smile. “Honestly, that hadn’t occurred to me.”

                Admitting his feelings for Cas to Jess wasn’t as stressful as admitting them to himself, Sam decided as they shared a companionable silence following Cas’s words. Because when he admitted it to himself, he had to deal with all the heart-stopping, breath-catching, butterflies-in-stomach feelings that Cas was giving him. He felt like a lovestruck teenager again – not that that point in his life was so long ago.

                God, he was so screwed.

                It didn’t improve with time, either; it was the same whenever they spent any time together. Sam found himself staring at Castiel’s lips when he wasn’t looking, wondering what they would feel like against his. Or his own hand would itch to cross the table to hold Cas’s. The only reason he didn’t was because he already had the best friendship he could ask for. As much as he wanted something more – and he did finally admit that he wanted much, much more – he wouldn’t risk it. If that made interacting with Cas that much more tense, it was well worth it.

                Jess still called him an idiot, of course – “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you were already dating, the way you talk about him with hearts in your eyes.” – but ultimately supported whatever made him happy. Not everything had to be about romance, after all. This wasn’t some bad romcom or classic Disney film. Sometimes people didn’t get the girl – or boy – and that was fine. That was life, and he would live with it.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Cas was growing more and more nervous each day. He didn’t know why; this was just another routine deployment, more for study than battle. He wasn’t being put in any kind of immediate danger, and even if he were in the heat of the conflict, it was all political at the moment.

                Of course, Castiel knew better. He knew he was nervous about Sam, knowing that he was hopelessly falling for him but not sure what to do about it, if he could do anything. Cas wondered if Sam knew somehow, had figured it out, because he had been increasingly reserved lately, the silences between them growing longer and more frequent. He certainly hoped he wasn’t being too forward. The last thing he wanted to do was drive Sam away.

                So when his phone rang and he was sure it was Sam, because Sam was the only one who ever called, he tried not to hurry to answer it.

                “Hey, Sam,” he answered casually.

                “ _Uh, close_ ,” the voice on the other end of the line replied with a half-hearted laugh. Cas would know the voice anywhere, even though it had been a while since he last heard it.

                “Oh, hello, Dean,” he greeted in surprise and no small amount of shame. “It’s been a while. How are you?”

                “ _Yeah, I’m fine, Cas. Thanks. And, uh, how’re you? I guess you’re back in the states?”_

                “I am, yes, although not for long,” he admitted. “I’m scheduled to leave again in April.”

_“Oh. I – I’m sorry to hear that.”_

                “Don’t be. It’s no big deal, and a while off yet. Anyway, it’s been too long since we’ve talked. To what do I owe the pleasure?”

_“Well, uh, I kinda overheard your conversation with my dad. Half of it, anyway.”_

                Cas froze in fear, certain he was going to be facing Dean’s wrath for so much as thinking about his brother. And now he was going to lose one, if not both, of his best friends. “O-oh?”

_“Yeah, but I didn’t really get what was goin’ on, just hearing half the conversation, you know? But uh, Dad spilled the beans earlier. With a little help from Jack Daniel’s.”_

                “I’m sorry,” Cas began, believing it was better to get the apologies out of the way first hand. “If you’ll believe me, I am respecting your father’s wishes and keeping my distance as much as I can – “

                “ _Jesus, Cas, what the hell’re you apologising for? I figured you and Geek Boy would get along. Hell, I was kind of depending on it, seeing as I wasn’t gonna be there for him_.” Dean’s chuckle was dry and humourless. “ _So I was calling to tell you that it’s totally okay to date my brother. Assuming he wants to, of course_.”

                Whatever Cas was expecting, it wasn’t that. An overwhelming sense of relief swept through him. He hadn’t realised just how tense he had been; the sudden relaxation of half his muscles was almost painful.

                “Thank you, Dean,” he said sincerely. “That means a lot. I will keep that in mind should your father ever change his mind.”

                “ _Ah, you know what, fuck him_!” Dean exclaimed, startling Cas. He had never heard anything except praise about the man from Dean. “ _He’s just upset that Sam left. I mean, we both are, but it’s really hitting him hard. Because of what he said, you know?”_ Cas did, but he didn’t interrupt to say so. Dean most likely didn’t know that Cas actually understood what he was referencing. _“And anyway, it doesn’t really matter, right? I mean, Dad was in and out of our lives until about two years ago, and, I was left taking care of Sam. Even after we settled down, he was gone more often than not. So, as his guardian, you have permission to date Sam . . . or whatever. If he wants to, obviously.”_

                Cas considered that for a moment. It was true, from what he had heard, that John wasn’t much of a father figure to Sam. Dean had raised Sam since they were both very young, as their life became extremely unstable following their mother’s death. All things considered, it was entirely acceptable to view Dean as Sam’s guardian.

                “Thank you,” Cas said again with much more conviction than before, a smile behind his voice.

                “ _No problem_.” Dean was smiling too if the lilt in his tone was any indication. “ _But hey, guardian or not, I’m still his big brother. So if you hurt him, I’ll fuck you up, best friend be damned_.”

                “Of course. Although I will do everything in my power to ensure that does not happen.”

_“Damn right you will. And Cas?”_

                “Yes?”

_“Don’t tell Sam about this conversation. I mean it. He probably won’t appreciate me meddling in his life again.”_

                Cas didn’t have to ask why. Sam had stated in the past that he had unintentionally severed all contact with his family when he left and had neither heard nor seen anything from them since. The enormous lack of understanding between the brothers was amazing to Castiel. Where Sam thought that Dean hated him and had left his life for good, Dean thought the same exact thing about Sam. Yet they both cared so much for each other. It was crazy, to put it mildly.

                But he also understood that this was not his business to meddle in.

                “I won’t speak a word of it.”

_“Okay. Good. Glad that’s settled. Listen, I gotta go before Dad wakes up again, but don’t be a fuckin’ stranger, alright? My phone’s always on.”_

                “Right. I will remember that. Thank you again. Take care, Dean.”

                “ _You too_ ,” Dean responded, punctuated by a click and the dial tone.

                Honestly, Cas had no idea what to do with this new information, with Dean’s blessing to date his brother. Likely, he wouldn’t do anything with it, and he certainly wouldn’t tell Sam, for his own good as well as respect to Dean’s wishes.

                As April dawned on them, Cas was no nearer an answer than he was before, although he did reason that it would be rather rude to break any kind of news to Sam only to leave immediately afterwards. If he was going to say anything – and that was a very big _if_ – it would have to wait until he was back.

                Meanwhile, Sam was getting more and more restless as the end of the month drew closer, and it didn’t take a genius to figure out why. Cas had seen Sam wearing the exact same expression he often wore now on a much younger face whenever Dean and their father left him behind without much in the way of explanation. It wasn’t concern for himself, but for his family. Sam was worried about Castiel, fearful that he might get hurt, or worse, while he was abroad, which was a completely legitimate fear, although Cas did his best to assure Sam that it wasn’t going to happen. Any battles raging at the moment were entirely political, and Cas was only _really_ going because he happened to be a Novak. Most likely he’d just be stuck volunteering at the local clinic for a few months.

                None of it appeased Sam, who was visibly suffering from the idea of Cas leaving him. It wasn’t as bad as before, but he was obviously losing sleep over it. Although he often voiced his disapproval, he knew that what Sam was most afraid of was being abandoned again. At the moment, at least to Castiel’s knowledge, the only real friends Sam had were himself and the young woman he shared an apartment with, and he couldn’t handle having the two most important people in his life be ripped out, not again. Castiel understood that with a painful level of accuracy that he didn’t much want to dwell on.

                Anyway. That meant that, when Sam invited him to what he called a “going-away party,” Cas was loathe to disagree, because maybe this could help give Sam closure – help him deal with – come to terms – whatever. Cas couldn’t think of any sort of excuse that didn’t make it sound like he’d already died, and he _definitely_ didn’t want to encourage that thought, not when Sam was internally freaking out.

                So he showed up on the doorstep to Sam and Jess’s apartment, feeling rather anxious and awkward. He sincerely hoped there wouldn’t be alcohol at this “party.” He really didn’t want a repeat of Christmas. Don’t get him wrong, he was just as happy to be spending time with Sam as usual, just a little anxious for his friend.

                Maybe Cas was more nervous about his deployment than he thought.

                The door in front of him swung open wide, revealing the dimly-lit apartment and a young woman Cas assumed was Jess.

                “Are you gonna stand there all night?” she asked, “Or were you planning on coming in?” Definitely Jess, if the sass was anything to go by.

                “Castiel. It’s a pleasure to meet you,” he introduced himself, holding out his hand for her to shake, then berating himself because it was impolite. As the man, he should have waited for her to invite him to shake her hand. Then he kicked himself again because what few social graces he had were borrowed from the fucking 1950s.

                Jess smirked as if she knew exactly what Cas was thinking before shaking his hand politely. “Jess. Nice to finally meet you after all I’ve heard from Sam. All good things, I promise.” She looked him over like she had a secret before stepping aside to let him into the apartment, and Cas was left wondering if he had passed some sort of test.

                He let his eyes sweep around the apartment. It hadn’t changed much since he had last visited, but what perplexed him was that he imagined more people to be present. At the moment it was only Jess and Cas; even Sam was nowhere to be seen.

                “I’ll take that,” Jess offered, taking the bottle Cas had forgotten he was holding – sparkling apple cider; figuring if Sam wanted to drink, it was best to have an alternative. Jess scoffed softly when she saw the label but didn’t comment, putting the bottle in the fridge.

                “Sam went to get pizza,” she explained, answering Cas’s unspoken question. “He should be back in a few minutes. In the meantime, have a seat.” She gestured towards a ratty couch in the living room, and Cas had no choice but to obey. He didn’t expect Jess to follow and sit uncomfortably close (even by his standards). She seemed to be sizing him up, and Cas couldn’t decide which analogy was more appropriate: A boxer meeting his opponent in the ring for the first time, or a boa constrictor eyeing its potential supper. Neither idea was appealing. Although Jess herself wasn’t very intimidating, her connection to Sam was. Cas desperately wanted her to approve of him, at the very least.

                “So you’re the famous Castiel,” she said finally. “Sam literally will not shut up about you.”

                Cas was flattered for a moment before he realised that he was Sam’s only real friend besides Jess, so of course he mentioned him often.

                “So tell me about yourself.”

                “That should not be necessary, if Sam talks about me as much as you say,” he pointed out, fidgeting a little under Jess’s scrutiny.

                “Yeah, but all he talks about is literature and philosophy and stuff. Get to the basics: Where are you from? What’s your major? What kind of music do you like? Y’know, ‘you’ things.”

                “Alright,” Cas acquiesced. “I’m from Pontiac, Illinois, although I grew up in Kansas – “

                “No way! So did Sam!”

                “Yes, we’ve known each other for several years.”

                “Huh. He never told me that.” Jess looked a little offended and, thankfully, sat back a bit. “Did you go to school together?”

                “For a little while, yes.”

                “So you know his family?”

                Cas eyed the young woman in front of him suspiciously. Her expression was a little too innocently curious. “Yes, I do.”

                “So you know what happened between them and – “

                “That is not my information to give. If you want to know, you’ll have to ask Sam.”

                Jess looked put out for a second, sighing in defeat, and Cas could see how much she cared about Sam, how concerned she was. But just as quickly, it was gone, replaced with something like admiration, or intrigue.

                “I like you, Castiel.”

                “You’ve only known me for upwards of five minutes.”

                “Yeah, but you’re a loyal friend, so I like you. . . . Anyway, there’s other stuff I want to know.”

                Cas was subjected to Jess’s interrogation until Sam got back, which seemed much longer than the few minutes promised. But when he did return, it was with two boxes of pizza, so Cas couldn’t really be mad at him.

                “Hey, Cas!” Sam greeted immediately, and if any irritation lingered in Cas, it disappeared with Sam’s smile. “Sorry you had to handle Jess while I was gone.”

                “Pssh, whatever!” Jess objected playfully. Cas smiled a little to see the playful banter between them. At least Sam was in good hands. “I’m positively pleasant. Did you get my pizza?”

                “Yeah, yeah,” Sam answered, setting out the pizzas and plates on the table. “And don’t worry, it’s in a completely separate box from mine.”

                “Good. I don’t need your gross pineapple contaminating perfectly good pizza.”

                “Pineapple pizza?” Cas interjected as Sam and Jess switched places, Sam handing Cas a plate with two slices.

                “Mushrooms and onions, yeah?”

                “Yes,” Cas smirked. “Thank you.”

                “I’m just glad I got it right. It’s been a while since . . . well, since I’ve seen you really eat anything.” Sam suddenly looked concerned. “You do eat, right?”

                “Not very much,” Cas confessed.

                “That can’t be healthy,” Jess said around a bite of pizza, plopping down on the couch on the other side of Sam.

                Cas shrugged. He was basically raised in an army base, living off MREs and running drills with his siblings. Being children who lived in the camp, their food wasn’t limited, but they all learned to live without, as they would in an actual military situation. In hindsight, it was kind of a messed up way to grow up, but Cas didn’t know any other way. He was perfectly content with his childhood as it was.

                Cas pulled himself out of his thoughts. It was rude to let his mind wander amongst company. And anyway, Sam and Jess had already changed the subject.

                “It’s nasty is what it is. Who puts fruit on a pizza?”

                “Jess, pizza’s covered in tomato sauce. _Tomatoes are fruit_.”

                “Yeah, but they’re classified as vegetables in the culinary world. So there.”

                “I don’t think there’s anything wrong with putting pineapple on pizza,” Cas offered, which led to a discussion about what foods went together and when and how. As much as he loved his more meaningful conversations with Sam, this was just as fun. In the end, he ended up trading a slice of his for a slice of Sam’s and was too occupied with blushing to notice Jess’s knowing look.

                It was more of a weekend get-together than a party, Sam confessed, a slight flush in his cheeks, when Cas inquired about the relative lack of people in attendance. “Just a chance for us to get together and hang out. Watch movies and stuff.” Cas had to admit that it sounded like fun, especially when their usual get-togethers only involved talking.

                “Well, go pick a movie, then, Cas,” Jess suggested, gesturing to a large, haphazard pile of tapes, most of which undoubtedly belonged to her.

                “It doesn’t matter,” Cas insisted. “You pick.”

                “You’re the guest.”

                “Jess,” Sam interjected amusedly. “He’s probably never seen any of them. Just pick one.”

                “So you’ve never seen _Harry Potter_?” Jess exclaimed, wearing an expression of horror that reminded him uncannily of Dean, upon finding out that Cas had never seen Star Wars / listened to Pink Floyd / whatever else Cas lacked that Dean considered basic human experience.

                “Jess, we can’t watch all the Harry Potter movies tonight.”

                “We don’t _need_ to watch all of them,” she replied over her shoulder, standing to set up the film. “Just the first one. For now.”

                Sam rolled his eyes, but they ended up watching it. Cas was honestly more interested in watching his hosts as they laughed appropriately, quoting the film as it played and trading stories of “Reminds me of the time . . . “ and “Remember when . . . ?” Cas hadn’t seen Sam so carefree in ages, and it in turn made his heart light.

                They were halfway through the second film when Jess stood with a stretch and a fake yawn, declaring that she was going to bed. Cas stood as well and suggested that he leave, but Jess waved him off.

                “By all means, stay. Unless you have something better to do tonight?”

                Cas sat back down.

                Sometime during the third film, Sam dozed off, and Cas followed not long afterwards.

~~~~~

When Castiel woke up, it was fairly late. Well, for him anyway. After a few fuzzy attempts, he was able to read that the analogue clock on the wall said it was about nine in the morning. Cas groaned at a pain in his neck from sleeping on the couch, trying to sit up and stretch, but a weight held his head down. It took him an embarrassingly long moment to realise that he had shifted in his sleep so he was practically sitting in Sam’s lap, Cas’s head resting between Sam’s shoulder and his cheek.

                On the one hand, Castiel’s heart positively leaped at the realisation. On the other hand, panic shot straight through him as he realised he couldn’t move until Sam woke up. He hoped he could pass it off as an accident, just natural unconscious gravitation towards the nearest warm body.

                As it turned out, he didn’t have to. Jess emerged before long, took one look at them, and cracked up, her shoulders shaking silently.

                _Help me_ , Cas mouthed, torn between embarrassment and desperation.

                “Just move.”

                Cas frowned, thinking about how incredibly rude that would be, but he didn’t have much of a choice when Jess grabbed his arm and pulled him forward, quick but gentle. Sam slumped down on the couch and muttered in his sleep but otherwise was not disturbed.

                “See?” Jess said, clapping Cas’s shoulder and guiding him towards the kitchenette. “He sleeps like the dead most weekends, just because he can. C’mon, help me make breakfast.” She pulled open the fridge and shoved a carton of eggs at him – “Get crackin’.” – and setting various other ingredients on the counter. “You ever make omelette casserole before?”

                “No.”

                “Well, it’s a bit of an art, if I do say so myself. Family recipe. Have you ever painted? It’s like that.”

                “I’ve never. Have you?”

                “Yeah,” Jess laughed, plopping a casserole dish between them and cracking the eggs into it. Cas followed suit, if just to have something to do with his hands. “I’m an art major. I do a lot of painting.”

                “Ah. I can appreciate art, but I’m not very good at it myself. You truly have a talent.”

                “Oh, shut up,” she snapped, although she clearly appreciated the praise. “What’s your favourite painting?”

                “ _Starry Night Over the Rhone_.”

                Jess stopped cracking eggs in order to look up at him, her eyes soft. “Mine too. Glad we have something in common.”

                “We both care very much for Sam,” Cas pointed out. “We have that in common.”

                “Yeah, we do,” Jess agreed absently. Her eyes suddenly focused on him, and Cas had that, now familiar, feeling of being observed. “Do you love him?”

                Cas sputtered, struggling to say words that he didn’t actually have, surprised at the casualty with which the question was asked. As if something that complicated could be answered so simply. “I – I wouldn’t say _love_ , exactly – “

                “But you like him? Like like him?”

                “I . . . yes.

                “Hey, don’t worry about it. Your secret’s safe with me.”

                “Has Sam said anything to you? I mean, does he . . . _like like_ me too?” Maybe it was wrong of him to ask, but as much as he was struggling with whether or not to admit his feelings to Sam, the question seemed justified. Jess just eyed him curiously as she whisked the eggs.

                “That’s not my information to give,” she replied, quoting Cas from the previous night.

                “That’s fair,” although admittedly, Cas was a little put out. “It was rude of me to ask. I’m sorry.”

                “Don’t be,” Jess said, and then was quiet as they finished putting together breakfast.

                Sam woke up while the casserole was in the oven, stumbling into the kitchen looking ruffled in the most adorable way.

                Castiel aborted that thought before it could carry any farther.

                Sam joined them at the table, and they chatted about nothing in particular, and when breakfast was done, they all ate together. His entire visit carried an air of domesticity, Cas thought. The normal kind of domesticity, not Cas and his siblings fighting over the last military issue brownie. Before he could stop the thought, he realised that he would very much enjoy living this kind of life with Sam, and that almost nothing would make him happier at this point.

                Thank God for Jess, who had to have been some sort of mind reader, or else just had an amazing knack for timing.

                “So, when are you leaving, Cas?” she asked offhandedly. Sam startled a little in his seat but didn’t say anything, and Cas frowned as the tension that had largely been absent recently returned in Sam’s shoulders.

                “Wednesday,” he answered shortly, but not terribly unkindly.

                “That soon?” Jess said incredulously. She only received a nod from Cas, and Sam was picking forlornly at his food while trying to look like he wasn’t forlorn in the least. “Maybe you two should write to each other while you’re away,” she suggested cheerfully, obviously trying to make up for the depressing atmosphere that had settled around them. “Like pen pals.”

                “I’ve never gotten mail while I was deployed,” Cas admitted sheepishly, rather enjoying the idea of getting letters from Sam while he was away. If the way Sam perked up was any indication, he liked the idea too.

                “Would you mind?” Sam asked softly, as if Cas could possibly reject.

                “Of course not,” Cas smiled. “I would love to hear from you.”

                “Awesome,” Sam grinned back. “Uh, how, exactly, would I address them?”

                “Well, I can’t actually tell you where I’m going. So I’ll send the first letter, and you can just reply to that.”

                “Awesome,” Sam repeated. Cas felt his heart flip in his chest.

~~~~~

Cas was gone from the end of April to the beginning of September, and the entire time, as he had predicted, he was stuck studying under another army doctor at the local clinic. It wasn’t that he didn’t love the work, because he did, but it seemed so pointless that they kept pulling him away from his life when they didn’t really need him, just because he was a Novak.

                His letters to and from Sam greatly helped. Sam loved to hear about all the different patients Cas was treating, especially the more interesting ones, and there were a lot of them – a group of elderly women all dressed as Professor McGonagall, two of whom were passed out drunk; a Korean man with an impressive (infected) back tattoo of a turtle giving birth to the universe; a teenage girl who kept swearing Cas looked just like her deceased father, and the girl’s mother who refused to believe that Castiel was old enough to be practising and kept demanding to see his ID. Cas was worried that talking about the patrons too much would reveal his location, but Sam assured him multiple times that he had “no idea where the fuck all those people can possibly be in one place.” Apparently, Sam didn’t even see such characters in either of his retail jobs, which was a wonder in and of itself.

                Meanwhile, Sam kept him up to date with normal life, even though there wasn’t really much to tell. He and Jess were still living together in the same apartment. Sam officially declared his major as pre-law. He still wasn’t on speaking terms with his family. That last bit always made Castiel upset when he thought about it. He had hoped that the Winchesters would have made up by now, for the good of all of them. He considered borrowing the clinic’s phone in order to call Dean and tell him to contact Sam, but he shot the idea down every time. It wasn’t his place. (Although, he did recognise that, eventually, enough would be enough and he wouldn’t stop himself from intervening. But for now, this was a Winchester problem.)

                When it was time for Cas to go back, he sent Sam a letter, knowing that he would get there before it did but thinking that he would have an excuse if his surprise appearance was ill-timed. He sincerely hoped that Sam would be more than happy to see him, but there was always that nagging feeling in the back of his mind that came with every return – the knowledge that life went on whether he was there to witness it or not. It was always awkward walking back into people’s lives after being absent for months at a time.

                Cas tried not to think about it too much. After arriving back on campus, the very first thing he did was drop his things off at his apartment and register for classes – a bit late, but he could make up for a week missed – before heading straight for Sam’s apartment. He stopped halfway there, reminding himself that Sam probably had classes to attend, turning tail, and heading for the coffeeshop instead. Because if he couldn’t see Sam just yet, he might as well surround himself with a familiar atmosphere, and he had missed the safe haven of the coffeeshop.

                Funnily enough, he wasn’t two steps in the door when he spotted a familiar mop of brown hair hunched over a book at a corner table. _Speak of the devil_ , Cas thought with a smirk, immediately making his way over. It made him strangely happy to know that Sam still came here even while Cas was away.

                From a few feet away, Cas saw that Sam was reading the textbook from their English class two semesters ago, the page open on several Renaissance-era poems. Cas smiled to himself, feeling a little mischievous in his excitement, and stood just behind Sam’s shoulder.

                “ _And though it in the centre sit_ ,” he read on the page that was open. “ _Yet when the other far doth roam / It leans and harkens after it / And grows erect as that comes home_.”

                Sam turned in his chair, looking annoyed until he caught sight of Cas. Sam’s jaw dropped open in shock, and as he stood to throw himself into a hug, Cas couldn’t keep a silly grin off his face.

                “Jesus Christ, Cas!” Sam laughed, holding him at arm’s length so they could look at each other. Sam’s hair was a bit longer than Cas remembered, and shaggier, and either he had grown or Cas had forgotten just how tall Sam was. There were bags under his eyes and his skin looked sallow, but Cas made a mental note to bring it up later, after their reunion.

                “It’s been months since I’ve seen you and the first thing you do is recite seventeenth century erotic poetry,” Sam giggled, outright _giggled_.

                “Yes, well, it was a bit of a spur-of-the-moment decision. I certainly didn’t expect to see you here.”

                “Yeah, me neither. I mean you . . . I was just . . . “ Sam’s voice trailed off, and he looked around the room as if expecting something to happen. “Do you wanna get out of here? It’s kind of noisy.”

                “Sure,” Cas agreed, waiting patiently for Sam to pack up his backpack before following him out the door.

                It was strangely quiet for early afternoon at Stanford, and strangely cool for late summer in California, but the sun was out, and it felt kind of nice. _Serene_ was the first word that came to mind, although that wasn’t quite right.

                They walked along the sidewalk with no particular destination in mind, just enjoying each other’s company for the first time in too long.

                “So, uh,” Cas started, eloquent as he always was around Sam, “You look . . . “ He had planned on saying _well_ , but he really didn’t want to lie, especially when the sunlight accentuated just how unwell Sam looked.

                But he just chuckled and said, “Yeah, I know. Jess has been on my ass for weeks. But the LSAT is this weekend, so I’ll be back to normal soon enough.”

                For some reason, it hadn’t even occurred to Cas that Sam would have to take the LSAT. He breezed through all his classes with relative ease, and he hadn’t seen Sam work himself ragged for any of them. At least, not since high school, when he was so desperate to get into a good college. There was no doubt in his mind that Sam would do exceedingly well, and he said as much.

                “Yeah, I hope so,” Sam had replied wistfully.

                “I _know_ you will,” Cas responded matter-of-factly. “I don’t believe there is any task in the world that you could not excel at.”

                Sam blushed pink across his cheeks and struggled to stutter out a response. “Uh, I mean, thank you. That’s really not true, not at all. But thanks.”

                “It was a compliment, Sam,” Cas explained, half amused and half confused at Sam’s reaction. “It’s okay to accept it.”

                Sam just shrugged, his face still a little flushed.

                After that, Cas complimented Sam as much as he could get away with.

~~~~~

Castiel was amazed at how easy it was to slip back into his regular routines, most of all how seamlessly Sam accepted him back into his life, as if Cas had never left. They still met after classes every day and most weekends. Sam was terribly anxious after taking the LSAT, so they made a trip to a nearby river and just sat there for a while until Sam finally relaxed (Cas desperately trying and failing not to think of it as a date the entire time). Sam was still his best friend, he was still friendly with Jess, life moved on as normal. It was refreshing.

                Sam’s scores were due to arrive late in October, so they planned a celebratory/consolation (depending on the score) dinner in November. It also served as a bit of a distraction. Jess didn’t know that, but Cas was familiar with how early November affected the entire Winchester family, and although he had never been told why outright, Cas had put the pieces together.

                And just to add to the festivities, Cas decided to bring copious amounts of alcohol to the dinner against his better judgement, planning on confessing his feelings to Sam at the end of the night. If it went well, he may gain a boyfriend. If it went poorly, he could always excuse himself as drunk and pray Sam wouldn’t remember anything in the morning.

                He heard the commotion and saw the lights before he turned onto the street Sam’s apartment was on and frowned. He was aware that some students’ social lives were much more exciting than his, but it really wasn’t something he wanted to deal with tonight. It didn’t even occur to Cas that there was any other explanation until he turned the corner and saw the trucks. Two large fire trucks parked in front of the apartment, firemen rushing to get their hoses set up, a crowd already gathering around an impressive fire.

                Cas broke into a sprint, pure panic and adrenaline and a steady mantra of _Sam Sam Sam Sam Sam_ fuelling him. He elbowed his way through the crowd, fully prepared to go charging into the burning building when he saw a fireman dragging Sam out kicking and screaming.

                “Sam!” Cas shouted, but he couldn’t be heard over the commotion, so he ran forward, shouting about how he was Sam’s friend, he was a doctor, _please just let me look at him he’s going to go into shock_ until he was finally allowed to pick Sam off the sidewalk and pull him away from the crowd, setting him down on the nearest bench and kneeling in front of him. Sam was shaking terribly, completely in hysterics, and Cas immediately switched into Doctor Mode. He’d deal with the emotional bits later; now he just had to make sure Sam was okay.

                He shrugged off his jacket and wrapped it around Sam’s shoulders. It was no substitute for a shock blanket, but it would have to do until an ambulance inevitably arrived. It seemed to help a little as Sam visibly tried to stop shaking, holding the jacket tighter around him. Good, Cas thought. Very good.

                He gently took Sam’s hand in his own and pinched the skin on the back, frowning at the lack of elasticity that indicated dehydration. Not that Cas hadn’t been expecting it, considering Sam had just been pulled from a fire. He turned Sam’s hand over and felt for a pulse in his wrist. It was present, but weak. Not so good.

                He dug around in his shoulder bag full of alcohol, hoping he remembered to pack some water. No such luck, but there was Gatorade, useful for head pains or sensitivity that might come from hangovers. Or shock. Cas hated having to make do like this, but he hadn’t actually prepared for this kind of situation when he left his apartment.

                “Sam?” Cas said softly, trying to catch Sam’s eye where he was hunched over. “I need you to sit up for me. It will be easier to breathe that way.”

                Sam struggled to straighten his back, making desperate eye contact with Cas, as if Castiel had all the answers Sam needed at the moment.

                “I need you to breathe with me, okay?” Cas prompted gently, speaking as softly as he could to be heard over the fire just half a block away. “In through your nose for five counts, hold for five, out through your mouth for five.” Cas demonstrated once and indicated that Sam should follow along. He struggled to keep up, his breath shallow and shuddering, but after just a few cycles, his pulse was a little stronger, and there was just a bit more colour in his face than before.

                “Okay?” Cas asked when Sam more or less had the pattern down himself. At Sam’s nod, Cas opened the Gatorade and held it up for him. “I need you to drink as much of this as you can. Slowly, don’t rush, no matter how thirsty you are.”

                Sam took a few slow, shallow gulps before squeezing his eyes shut with a pained expression.

                “Sam?”

                “Can we just go?” His voice was soft and hoarse, and it sounded painful to be speaking at all. But mostly it was desperate. “I need to – I can’t – “

                “Shh, Sam. Don’t think about it. Let’s talk about something else, keep your mind off things.”

                Sam scoffed, and really, Cas couldn’t blame him.

                “Did you see your scores?” he asked anyway. “What did you make on the LSAT?”

                Sam sighed but went along with it. “One-seventy-four.”

                “That’s amazing, Sam!”

                “I-it’s nothing. I could’ve done a lot better. I could’ve . . . “ Sam got a far-away look in his eyes, his breath hitching again as he looked like he was about to cry.

                “No no no no, Sam. Breathe. Five in, hold, five out.”

                “I can’t. I can’t, Cas. I tried so hard, but I couldn’t – they dragged me out – wouldn’t listen – and I-I saw her . . . “ Sam trailed off, dissolving into hiccups. Cas shushed him automatically, raising the Gatorade bottle to his lips and insisting he drink while glancing back at the apartment. It was a little far off to see much, but Cas couldn’t help but notice that no one else had been pulled from the building.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

Sam was completely numb. After his initial breakdown, he just couldn’t bring himself to feel anything. He answered questions fired at him from policemen and paramedics on autopilot, listened to the hysterical landlord and assured him that nothing was anybody’s fault. When they were finally free to go, he shut his mouth, flipped a switch, and refused to speak. Cas took Sam to his place, offering him the spare room, and Sam didn’t argue, obediently following Cas’s doctorly instruction but refusing to acknowledge any of the questions asked in gentle whispers.

                Sam slept on and off for what must have been days, but he barely registered any of it and was no more rested when he woke up than when he fell asleep. Cas, bless him, tried his best with what he had to work with, but he eventually had to acknowledge that changes had to be made or Sam might wither away into nothing (which was actually a very appealing idea at the moment). Cas asked questions often. _What can I do to help? What do you need?_ But Sam never spoke a word. He knew he would get over this himself soon, and it was actually a bit of a surprise that he hadn’t internalised everything already.

                Then one night – morning, afternoon, whenever – he woke up screaming with visions of fire more vivid than any he had ever had before. Everything was so loud and hot and he tried to save her he tried so hard but then the firemen came and the roof collapsed and –

                -- and Cas was right there, holding him gently while Sam screamed and sobbed, promising that everything would be alright. _I know, Sam, I know I’m so sorry, but it will be okay, I promise. Shh, it will get better. What do you need? What can I do? Please, Sam . . ._

                And Sam had answered with the one thing on his mind at the moment: “Dean.”

                Dean: His brother, who hated him for leaving. Dean: The one constant in his life, his entire life. The one person in the world who might understand what Sam was going through, even if the memory was muddled with age. If Dean were there from the beginning, Sam wouldn’t have let himself grieve like this, but he needed his brother now. Now he was past grief and spiralling dangerously down towards something he was afraid he wouldn’t be able to come back from.

                He fell asleep against Cas’s chest, rocking gently and lulled by the sweet sound of empty promises.

                He woke up twice after that, grateful to be alone, even if it didn’t feel quite right. The third time he had company, a shakey, calloused hand pushing his hair out of his face and familiar green eyes glistening with tears.

                “Heya, Sammy,” Dean greeted, his voice breaking, lip trembling, and Sam had never seen his brother look so vulnerable before, so open with his emotions.

                And just like that, Sam lost it too.


End file.
